Manners
by Dreamnorn
Summary: America can be a little rude sometimes, especially around England, but it looks like he's not the only one who needs to learn some manners. Slight USUK. Rated for language. Happy early birthday, Piano'sIrishTater!


_Yes, everybody, I prefer USUK over FrUK (although that doesn't mean I don't necessarily LIKE the latter; FrUK can be interesting to read). It's my third favorite Hetalia pairing, actually, behind RoChu and Spamano. Like "Sun Grown Tomatoes", this story is a bit of an apology gift for being late on updating "Two Halves of a Whole", although its actual purpose is as an early birthday present for one of my favorite authors on this site, __**Piano'sIrishTater. **__I hope you enjoy it!_

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Manners

"Idiot. You're supposed to _drink_ your tea, not _guzzle_ it like some wanker."

America finished his tea after two big gulps and placed the teacup back on the table. He looked up at England with big, pleading eyes behind his glasses, hoping that it would spark some sort of emotion in the other. As usual, it didn't work on his former older brother. He had been invited over for tea and biscuits-that-are-really-cookies that afternoon, but America had learned by now to be wary of England's cooking.

Laughing good-naturedly, America joked, "I figured that if I drank it fast, then I wouldn't have to taste it, Iggy."

England wasn't as amused. "Alfred, you git, don't call me 'Iggy!' My name is Arthur and you know it."

"Okay, then, Iggy-pie!"

"Arse," Arthur sighed, taking a small sip out of his own teacup. "You simply _must _learn to be more polite when in another's company. Don't you know it's rude to insult another's delectable cooking?"

Alfred considered telling England that his cooking was about as delectable as leftover French fry grease, but he preferred to not risk his life this second. Instead, he raised a cocky eyebrow and countered, "Oh, yeah? Well, Iggy, isn't it rude to call your guests bad names and weird British swear words? I mean, what the hell is an 'arse' anyway?"

"An ass, you arse!"

"See what I mean?"

England was about ready to hurl the teapot at America's head, but he had to control his anger. _I am a gentleman, after all. Everything must be done with a calm and level head._ "Even so," Arthur argued, "it embarrasses me to see you, my former colony, behave so uncouthly in your host's presence. It's disgraceful not only to you, but to me as well. Do you think it would be smart to insult, for example, Austria if he were to invite you over?"

"Not really. I mean, his food actually has flavor!"

Arthur, who was taking a bite out of a biscuit-cookie whatever-the-hell-you-call-it, spat it out in surprise. "Did… did you just imply that my food is _bland?_"

"You think that was _implying?_" America asked, putting on a dumbfounded face. "I was practically writing it on your face!"

England gawked, his brain struggling to process what just happened. _That… that BASTARD!_ He reached for the teapot, intent on pouring the scalding liquid on Alfred's hair, when suddenly he felt a tug at the back of his shirt.

"Don't do it, Mr. Britain!"

Arthur turned to see Flying Mint Bunny looking at him with big, chocolate chip eyes. "Alfred is like a little brother to you," the magical creature reasoned. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself for trying to hurt him!"

"And who are _you_ to be my conscience? I like you, Mintykins, but why choose now to come over?"

America blinked at England, once again questioning his old friend's sanity. "Who the fuck is Mintykins?"

"I am," Flying Mint Bunny huffed. He turned to look at Arthur and sighed, "Jeez, he _still _can't see or hear me? That changes everything. Hit him with the pot. Nail him good. Use some of Canada's maple syrup on his underwear, if you want to."

And with that, Flying Mint Bunny patted Arthur on the nose and… well, flew away.

"That was weird," England pondered. Alfred, who was still seriously confused and slightly disturbed, nodded his agreement.

In the end, Arthur calmed down and the two of them decided to turn back to their meal. They ate cookie-biscuit things for a while, America struggling to look like he was enjoying them, when he noticed something unusual on Arthur's nose.

"Hey, Iggy?"

"Don't call me that. What do you want?"

"Why do you have mint on your nose?"

England crossed his eyes in a very ungentlemanly fashion and found a dollop of green on the bridge of his nose. _The Flying Mint Bunny,_ he gathered. _It's so warm that he's probably dripping a little._

"Here, let me get that for you!"

Before Arthur could protest, Alfred walked over to the other side of the table and kissed Arthur on the nose, electrifying the other nation to the very core. His face instantly became as red as the tomatoes that Spain and Romano enjoyed so much, his green eyes wide with shock and bushy eyebrows practically shooting off his head.

America pulled back, grinning goofily. "All clean!"

"Wanker! Get the _hell_ out of my house, you ass-faced, food-critiquing bastard!"

He picked up his plate and flung it at Alfred's head. Laughing like a little boy, the younger nation fled out of the house with a haste that could rival Italy on retreat.

"Silly Iggy," America chuckled, "That guy's gotta seriously learn some manners."

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_I really have nothing more to say about this other than that I TRULY BELIEVE IN FLYING MINT BUNNY._

_Comments? Questions? Corrections? As always, reviews are welcome. Thanks for reading!_


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